


The crooked B

by sherlocksmind



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, The case of the Borgia perl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-04-27 12:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14425266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocksmind/pseuds/sherlocksmind
Summary: Sherlock’s mind has gotten the better of him and is now presented with the most difficult case he might ever have “The case of the Borgia Perl”.





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock ripped through the door of 221B, now with the B almost falling off being held on by one screw the rest of the screws flew off when Sherlock forced the door open and slammed it behind him. Sherlock smacked his shoulder low to the door so he could reach the door knob to lock it, attempting to keep John occupied with unlocking the door. But, Sherlock’s fingers trembled too much to even bother to put the lock back on.  
Sherlock turned violently towards the stares causing some sweat and blood that occupied his dark curls to fly in every direction and splatter the walls. He stumbled up three steps and tripped on the forth, his cheek smacked the corner of a step. He struggled to push himself up, the veins in his neck bulged as his face turned every shade of red. His body seemed to weigh 10 times more then usual and his very skinny arms made didn’t make it any easer to get up. Finally, with one loud grunt, he stumbled onto his feet every step he took made the pain so much more excruciating. He reach the top of the stairs in witch the door to his flat was open, he grabbed the sides of the doorway and dug his nails into the wood waiting as if he was recharging his energy. Then a sudden wave of pain came over him sending his body crashing to the floor and smacking his head once more this time knocking him unconscious.  
Sherlock woke to the sound of a cab pulling up. John, his mind told himself. “Fuck!” Sherlock breathed as he started working on getting himself to the bathroom, the only door in the flat with a lock on it. He pushed himself up onto his elbows spitting out blood and watching as it mixed with sweat and more blood that had dripped from his hair leaving a puddle where his head was moments ago. A scrape on the door sent a signal to Sherlock’s head.  
John must be trying to fix the B, He’s too close.  
Sherlock hoisted himself on to his hands trying to stand but his legs slid out from under him with a flop Sherlock’s body hit the ground, this time a little more graceful. He had no other choice but to drag himself to the bathroom. He pulled his tired body across the floor leaving a trail of blood behind him. All his upper body muscles where being used to make it to the bathroom every time his abs tightened up he could feel the two bullet wounds release a spray of blood. As he got to the doorway of the bathroom John pushed open the door.  
“Sherlock I’m ba-“ the words where cut off by a faint gasp from John. He had seen the blood splatters from Sherlock’s hair on the walls.  
Sherlock pulled himself up with a small whimper using the door frame for support as soon as he herd John’s frantic footsteps on the stairs he threw himself onto the bathroom floor and kicked the door shut with a loud bang.  
“Sherlock!?” John yelled horrified at the amount of blood that was waiting for him at the door.  
A puddle of blood lay in front of John’s feet as if taunting John ‘you were gone too long’. He followed the tracks of blood left by Sherlock’s limp body being dragged across the floor. John banged on the door scaring Sherlock into a gasp.  
“Sherlock? Sherlock answer me.” John pleaded.  
Sherlock let out a faint stumble of words just loud enough to hear from the other side of the door “fuck, off.”  
John sighed out a laugh, he obviously feels well enough to insult me so he’s not dead yet.  
Sherlock, toppled over onto his hands and knees throwing-up what ever was left from the last time he ate -witch was 4 days ago-. He collapsed to one side of the puddle, laying on his back as he started to cry breathing out ever whimper of pain and relief he had.  
John was here, but I’m hurting so bad he can’t see me like this.  
A worm voice came from the other side of the door “Sherlock, I’m coming in.”  
John pushed the door open, Sherlock’s eyes widened, he forgot to lock the fucking door.  
“Shit” Sherlock sighed in defeat, resting his head back onto the cold tile.  
“Oh my go-“ John was cut off by shock when his eyes drifted to a blood soaked Sherlock laying on a blood and vomit soaked ground.  
“What’s happened? How? who?” all these questions that would not be answered at the moment. John fell to his knees beside the nearly dead detective. Every vain in John’s body pumped with adrenaline taking action as if instinct. John ripped off Sherlock’s coat and scarf and pulled off Sherlock’s blazer not caring wether the cloths ended up in a puddle of blood and vomit or in the hall as long as they where out of the way. Then John stopped his eyes widened, tears threatening his eyes. Sherlock noticed that John had stopped tending to him, using all his energy he looked up at the earth-shook doctor.  
“John, Your alright.” Sherlock whispered with what was left of him meeting John’s eyes.  
“Can’t say the same for you.” John laughed in an attempt to calm his nerves. Sherlock’s head fell back into place on the ground implying for John to carry on.  
John unbuttoned Sherlock’s shirt carefully trying not to cause anymore pain then what he was already in. John pulled off Sherlock’s soaked dress shirt that stained his hands, with the blood of his best friend.  
“Jesus!” John’s voice shook at the sight of the holes in his friends chest.  
John opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a first aide kit. He opened it and pulled out some cloth and a bottle of disinfectant. The kit had a lot in it but not enough to care for two bullet wounds and what ever else was wrong with Sherlock but John did his best.  
John grabbed Sherlock’s discard shirt and started to clean up the blood that occupied Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock quivered under the the touch of the fabric as it wiped across his chest. He started breathing hard and frantic after two minutes of John tending to his wounds. Then he started to cry once more wheezing and whimpering at the pain. Watching Sherlock in so much pain sent tears to John’s eyes.  
“You’re going to hate me for this,” John said to the Sherlock wile holding up the disinfectant bottle. “this is going to bern.” John said opening the cap. Sherlock let out a loud moan in protest. John counted to three then pored the bottle out onto one of the two holes in Sherlock’s chest.  
“Fuck!” Sherlock yelled at the top of his lungs launching one of his hands towards John’s wrist that held the bottle forcing him to stop. The other hand grabbed John’s unoccupied hand and holding it so tight he was nearly crushing John’s bones.  
Sherlock pleaded over and over “Please don’t do it again please don’t!” Sherlock was panicking so much, he was hard of breathing and tears fell from him face.  
Sorrow filled John’s face as he said “I’m so sorry but it needs to happen.”  
Sherlock nodded, set his head back and released John’s occupied hand but still held on tight to his other hand.  
John didn’t bother to count this time, he pored out the bottle as soon as Sherlock laid his head back. Sherlock held his breath clenched his muscles and tryed his hardest not to knock the shit out of John. As soon as John stopped poring out the disinfectant Sherlock reached for John’s torso and buried his face deep into John’s chest breathing through the pain. John’s arms rapped around Sherlock and held him tight.  
When Sherlock returned to his place back on the ground John continued patching him up. Then John leaned in close to Sherlock’s head examining where the blood was coming from. John took a needle from the first aide kit and pulled it through Sherlock’s scalp sewing him up.  
“John?” Sherlock said  
“Yeah?”  
“I tried my hardest to hide from you, before you came home.” Sherlock said through whimpers.  
“I know, but you needed me to help you, You’re such a hard headed bastard.”  
John’s mouth was so close to Sherlock’s forehead that he could feel John’s lips graze his skin as he talked. Sherlock found so much comfort in the interaction that his hart slowed to a steady beat.  
Sherlock hummed in agreement also in regret for making John so scared.  
As soon as John finished patching up Sherlock’s head John said “you need to sleep.” Sherlock was too tired to protest John pulled Sherlock into the bedroom and set him down in his bed, pulling up a chair, John sat down with a book and watched over Sherlock before drifting to his book.  
“John?”  
“Hum?”  
“What would I do without you?”  
“You would still be on the floor.” John said with a smirk and returned to his book. Sherlock stared at John’s dark blue eyes scanning the pages of the book, the steady motion brought sleep to his heavy eyes.


	2. The lights of the palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is experiencing some PTSD for the incident and puts himself and John in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @writing_to_music for going through hell just to edit my story:).

Sherlock woke in the middle of the night screaming. 

The sudden burst of noise scared John so much that it sent him flying, out of his chair and onto the ground. John reached under Sherlock’s bed to grab the backup gun he had stashed there in case of an emergency and waved it around in the air.

“What is it, who’s there?”

John looked up at a frightened Sherlock sitting up in bed, all the blood drained from his face and his eyes wide with fear.

“Sherlock?”

“John?” Sherlock said with a whisper.

“It’s ok, I’m here,” John placed the gun back under Sherlock’s bed and walked to the detective’s side. “I’m here.” 

Sherlock was shaking, sweat dripping from his curls and rolling down his pale face.

John stood next to Sherlock for what seemed like an hour until Sherlock snapped into action, pushing John to the ground and stumbling out of bed. Frantically, Sherlock threw himself to the ground, where John had the backup gun stashed. He reached under the bed, grabbed the gun and pointed it at the only other person in the room. 

John.

“Jesus!” John ducked behind the bed out of Sherlock’s sight, but his attempt to do so was not a good one. As John peeked his head up over the bed he stared down the mouth of a shaking gun that Sherlock held.

“For god’s sakes, Sherlock, it’s me!” John put both of his hands up, hoping Sherlock would lower the gun. 

Sherlock stood there, both hands on the gun, trying to keep a steady aim. The gun shook so much John could hear the rattling of the bullets that waited to enter his head. 

Then John heard a knock at Sherlock’s bedroom door. A cheery “Ho ho!” was heard, followed by a loud gasp. Mrs. Hudson had walked in on what might be the murder of John Watson. John’s head turned towards Mrs. Hudson and with one frantic motion waved her off. She darted off unbelievably quickly, especially for someone of her age. 

John turned his focus back to Sherlock, who in one fast motion lowered the gun. A sigh of relief came from John but was cut off with a gasp. 

John looked up to see Sherlock turn the gun on himself and press the barrel to his temple. Sherlock’s hands trembled, his eyes filling with tears, and he spoke, with a shaky and cracking voice.

“John... make it stop... make my mind stop,” Sherlock said quietly, starting to mumble something about “the lights of my palace are always on.”

John stood slowly with his hands still up, cautious about the state that Sherlock was in.

As John walked forward Sherlock stumbled back a little but let John get close to him. Sherlock’s whole body trembled and swayed back and forth as he looked straight at John’s eyes and screamed out in frustration. 

John dove forward, tearing the gun from Sherlock’s hand, but not before Sherlock fired a shot through the ceiling. Quickly disarming the gun, John threw the magazine and the barrel to opposite sides of the room. 

Sherlock’s knees buckled beneath him, sending him collapsing to the ground.

John caught Sherlock just before he hit the ground, grabbing his arm and pulling him close, holding Sherlock’s head to his chest. In the middle of Sherlock’s room, the two men kneeled on the floor. One of John’s hands was on Sherlock’s head, pulling him to his chest, while the other wrapped around Sherlock’s back. Sherlock’s arms were limp to his sides, the only sign of consciousness being the sobs that he let out into John’s chest. John kissed the top of his head, running his fingers through his black hair as he repeated “You’re okay, I’m here now, it’s all right.”

Sherlock’s arms soon wrapped around John, one hand holding a fistful of of John’s shirt collar, the other pulling on the back of John’s flannel shirt. They knelt there for what seemed like hours, until Sherlock’s sobbing stopped and the sweat evaporated to almost nothing. 

John shuffled, signaling for Sherlock to get up with him, and they rose, Sherlock now towering over John as they both walked towards the bed. John slipped Sherlock under the covers and whispered into his ear, still trying not to startle him, “I’m going to check on Mrs. Hudson.” Before John walked off he heard Sherlock speak. 

“If you ever mention this to anyone I will have to kill you and whoever you told.” 

John smirked. “Kill me? That’s so 2 hours ago.”  
Something was tossed at the back of John’s head and hit the ground with a knock. A pen rolled between John’s legs. He bent over and picked it up, still facing the door, and waved the pen in the air, smiling.

“Fair enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	3. A mysteriously girl at the door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new character shows up at the door of 221B and brings an impossible case with her.

John walked downstairs to check on Mrs. Hudson . She’d probably went upstairs to tell John something about Rosie, as she was caring for her while Sherlock and John were working. After he’d calmed Mrs. Hudson down, reassuring her that he was all right, and Rosie had been fed, John made his way upstairs to clean the flat, which was still bloodsoaked from the day before. As he worked, he worried about Sherlock, but it calmed him to know Rosie was safe. As John was putting away the cleaning supplies, there was a knock at the door.

“Piss off!” John yelled, thinking it was another drunk person looking for “the great Sherlock Holmes to help him find his missing rum.” But the knock came again, this time louder and more frantic, followed by the cry of police sirens. 

John walked over to to the coat rack and grabbed his own gun from his jacket. The sound of a boot smacking against the door echoed through the flat until the door came off the hinges. John heard Mrs. Hudson's door slam closed. As years of dust cleared from being kicked up from the fall of the door, a figure started to take shape in the smoke. At first John thought it was an adult, because of the force required to kick down the door. Then as the smoke cleared completely, it was revealed to be a girl.

His first thought was that she looked almost exactly like Sherlock. Her face was lightly tanned and her jawline and chin indentation were well defined. She had slight cheekbones starting to form underneath the baby fat on her cheeks, and her bright green eyes were widened with fear as her long curly hair dripped from the rain. She was dressed in a gray long sleeve shirt that hung around her shoulders, black pants and black dress shoes with gold lining the soles, weighed down by the rain. Her hands were cuffed and she held the golden B from the door in them. She raised her hands, holding up the B, and spoke with an out of breath huff.

“It seems I’ve broken your door, well, and your B.”

“What the hell?” John said dumbfoundedly.

“Oh come on, Hamish, this is not the craziest thing that’s happened here.”

“I-um... no sorry, what?” John questioned as he lowered his gun.  
“You know that stupid pearl, the one that the police can’t seem to find?” she said, walking towards John and handing him the B, then returning to the door. “They think I stole it.” 

She placed her fingers under the door and pulled it up with one loud grunt. “I obviously didn’t or I wouldn’t be here, Hamish.” She placed the door back onto its hinges the best she could and dusted herself off. “There, pretty good for a girl in cuffs, don’t you think?” She stepped back to admire her work, then turned towards John and started up the stairs, passing by him. “Come on Hamish, we have work to do, and you need to invite me in.”

John stood up, using the railing as much as possible. His head was spinning out of control trying to wrap itself around what happened. A pit started to grow in John’s stomach - the same feeling as when Sherlock jumped off that roof, as when Moriarty kidnapped him and strapped a bomb to his chest and as when he was ambushed on the battlefield and shot. 

John ran towards the girl as she waited patiently at the door of the flat with her arms crossed. Still in shock, he opened the door of the flat only to find Mrs. Hudson holding Rosie and sitting on the sofa.

“Mrs. H - how did you-?”

“Oh dear, Sherlock hasn’t told you about the secret way into your flat? You still have a lot to learn.” Mrs. H stood up with Rosie in her arms and walked through the door, passing John and the girl to return to her flat. John let the girl inside and sat her in the client chair.

“Stay there while I go get Sherlock.”

“Your wife?” She stopped and looked John up and down with one eyebrow raised. Then she cleared her throat. “No no no, sorry, husband,” she corrected herself with a smile.

“No, damn it!” John said as he left to get Sherlock.

“Now now, Hamish.” she said with a smirk.

“Don’t call me that!” John yelled back at her.

When John and Sherlock walked back out of the bedroom the girl had disappeared from the chair.

“Hello?” John said, more cautiously than needed.

“Kid?” 

Sherlock received a soft punch from John.

“What the hell?” Sherlock whispered to John.

“Don’t call her kid, that’s mean, she’s like 15, or something.”

Sherlock groaned. “Teenager?” he yelled out, grinning at John. Before John could tell him off they both heard the sound of papers being shuffled around in the kitchen, then a voice.

“Nope, wrong, Hamish please don’t be this dumb, oh GOD, WRONG!”

They walked out to see the girl messing around with Sherlock’s papers and experiments.

“Out!” Sherlock yelled, stomping towards her, grabbing everything out of her hands and pushing her out of the kitchen. Sherlock looked at the experiments the girl said were wrong - they were obviously all the ones that are supposed to be wrong, Sherlock had put them up to see if any of his clients are more intelligent than they seem.

The girl went and sat back down in the wooden chair, but faced it more towards Sherlock’s chair. “Come on then Hamish, and Hamish’s not-husband.”

“He’s not my husband, and stop calling me that.” John sighed, while walking towards his chair and sitting with his arms crossed.

“Hang on, did that girl just call you Hamish?” Sherlock asked, following after John then sitting in his own chair.

Sherlock and the girl sat facing each other in the same position, fingertips pressed together resting on their lips, one leg crossed over the other and leaning against the back of their chair, both completely comfortable. They seemed to study each other, one making deductions about the other. Silence grew thick throughout the flat until the girl’s voice pierced the air.

“Hamish, why does he look so much like me?”

“I told you to stop calling me that.” John said frustratedly.

The girl sighed in annoyance.

Then while still in the same sitting position Sherlock asked a question.

“Name?”

“Maddie,” the girl replied without hesitation.

“Names?” She parroted.

“I’m Sherlock, he’s John, how old are you?”

The girl sat up a little taller this time as she answered.

“14. Who’s the old lady downstairs?”

Sherlock replied after a delay. “None of your concern. Why are you here?”

The girl chuckled and leaned back again. “To whom may I share my story? Hamish? Or the mysterious Sherlock, who I’m guessing should not hear my predicament due to him being completely unstable?”

Sherlock sighed, shut his eyes for a second, and evidently took what Maddie had just said as the start of a game. “Poor girl, wrongfully convicted,” he started.

The girl squinted. It was her move now. Out of nowhere, she seemed to have recognize Sherlock from somewhere. She grinned in a way that reminded Sherlock of how Moriarty smiled seconds before he blew his own brains out.

“I was accused of stealing that stupid pearl!”

Sherlock grabbed his side, where the patched up bullet wounds were, and jumped over the back of his chair to put a barrier between the girl and himself.

“You- it’s you, you shot me! You shot me because you stole that ridiculous pearl!”

“Didn’t!” The girl snapped back. “Didn’t steal.”

John rose up out of his chair, clutching the gun that sat in his lap.

“I was scared, I needed help, I needed to run, you just got in the way.” The girl talked like she was just trying to explain a little accident.

Sherlock’s vision blurred as he started to fall back. He reached for John’s gun, took it from him and shot at the girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think of Maddie!!!


	4. The Grate  escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback that tells us exactly how Maddie got into this incredibly dangerous situation.

Maddie woke up in a poorly lit interrogation room with absolutely no recollection as to how she had ended up there.

“Oh fff-,” she muttered. “Hello? Why am I here?” She yelled up at the at the ceiling, hoping for any sort of reply.

 

Maddie had a skull splitting headache and her vision blurred, focusing in and out every so often. She brought one of her hands up to wipe the dots away from her vision, as one of her hands came up to her face, the other followed closely behind.

“What the hell?” she sighed, looking down at the handcuffs that wrapped tightly around her wrists, drawing blood that dripped around the edges.

“Seriously? You do realize I’m only 14. What am I going to do, kill you?” 

She talked to the mirror, knowing that there were faces watching her from the other side. She chuckled, then violently jerked herself around in the chair, hoping to intimidate the people viewing.

On the other side of the mirror, Mycroft turned to Lestrade.

“Do we know if she really stole the pearl?” Mycroft asked.

“Erm... well, no, it was a tip that was given to us.”

“Okay...what about her family, do they know where she is?”

“No one told you?”

Mycroft shook his head.

“We found the girl living in the same room that the pink lady was killed in, from ‘A Study in Pink’, as John named it. She had pictures of Sherlock and John all over the walls, even a copy of John and Mary’s wedding invitation,” Lestrade said, handing Mycroft a plastic bag marked “Evidence”, which was filled with pictures of the room.

“This girl is dangerous. Forget about the pearl - if she gets out, with the information that she has on him, Sherlock could be in danger...” 

Mycroft peered into the room that Maddie was being held in.

“Where did she go?” Dropping the pictures, he ran to the door of the interrogation room.

“Oh, shit!” Lestrade said, reaching for his gun and following after Mycroft.

Mycroft pushed the door open and Lestrade entered, ready to shoot. Suddenly, Maddie popped into view, seemingly out of nowhere, grabbing Lestrade’s gun and quickly disarming him. Before Mycroft could react, Maddie shot Lestrade in the chest. 

Mycroft dove forward in a failed attempt at grabbing the girl, she dodged him and ran out. Mycroft pushed the lock down button and tended to Lestrade holding his jacket over the hole in the inspectors chest.

Maddie ran down the halls shooting anyone who got in her way. Finding a looker room Maddie decided she was going to need new clothes.   
Maddie look exactly how you think a homeless 14 year old would look. She had on a light gray long sleeve, her pants where caked with mud and the Converse she had on were clearly outgrown and tearing apart also had mud occupying them. She broke into the room and locked the door behind her, Maddie started to raid the lockers looking for any decent pants and shoes. Almost every single locker had a lab coat and nothing else. She found some pairs of shoes and pants but they didn't fit right. Then she came across a locker labeled 'Agent Hooper' Maddie broke the lock and opened the locker. She laughed as a sign of relief "Thank you Hooper" she said while taking the black pants and black shoes out of the locker.

Maddie took off her clothes and laid them out onto a nearby table and studded them trying to figure out what they did to her. As she slipped on her new outfit she came up with a conclusion.

"Ok Maddie," she said to herself. "You have no bruises or cuts, other then one black eye so they didn't knock me out by hitting me." She sat herself down in front of her clothes then pointing a finger over them as if there were words written across them. She said "There are splatters on the back of my shoes and pants, the pattern implying that I was running fast. Now the very large amount of mud on the Front bottom half is a perfect indication that I ended up on my knees at one point…" she was puzzled "Oh of course, I was drugged." Maddie said leaning back in her seat bringing her hands up to her lips. "But if I fell, how come the front of my clothes aren't completely covered in mud? Aww, they caught me before I completely fell on my face. That was nice of them, not so nice when they made me hit my head on that bloody metal table." She said bringing her hand up to her bruised eye.

A bang came from the other side of the door followed by soldiers yelling "She's in here!”

"Fuck, welp time to bounce.” Maddie then pushed herself out of the chair in absolutely no rush at all. She picked up the stolen gun and shot specific spots in the door she then opened it, to her delight her calculations were right and she killed all 10 of the guards.

"Nice" She congratulated her self and made her way to the stairs.

Sherlock got the call that the building that Mycroft was working in, following the case of the Borgia Peril, was under attack. Sherlock rushed there in secret to make sure his older brother was ok. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Sherlock looked up just in time to see two bullets flying towards him. He was shot twice in the side. The blow of the bullets sent him tumbling down the stairs leave him unconscious.

()()()()

As Maddie shot the person blocking the stairs she miss calculated and missed his head. She watched as a curly haired man with a big coat tumbled down the flight of stairs. She jumped the railing, landing next to him.

Sherlock woke to the dimly lit stairwell only to see a dark figure standing over him. Maddie was about to finish the man off but a voice in her head said "He's important" the same voice from when she was in the company of Lestrade and Mycroft. So, with one swing of her gun she smacked Sherlock's head rendering him unconscious once more before jumping the rest of the railings landing at the bottom and running out the door.

When Maddie got far enough from the building that she had just broken out of she slowed her pace and kept to the shadows. She hid the gun under the waistband of her pants and pulled her sleeves over her handcuffs. 

Maddie wandered the streets of London looking over her shoulder every now and then unsure of where she could go. Then she thought about the detective she adored so very much, a smile came to her face. She started to walk up the road.   
As she got to the door that said 221B she banged on it loudly hoping that it would wake one of them up. Then a yell came from the other side of the door. "fuck off!" Maddie thought to herself "well that was rude." Then she realized if she acted like she knew exactly who Sherlock Holmes was she would be sniffed out by him immediately so she thought of the partner of Sherlock, only the middle name of Sherlock's possible lover came to mind, Hamish. While Maddie banged on the door more frantically she deleted everything she knew about Sherlock in her mind only leaving things she knew about "Hamish". As sirens got louder it frightened her into breaking down the door with her foot. The door came down with one massive smack and the B from the door did the same but landing at her feet she picked it up while the smoke cleared. Maddie waited patiently for the only man she knew to help her.


End file.
